


after midnight snacks and satisfactions

by Siriusstuff



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Derek, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Living Together, M/M, college students (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:32:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusstuff/pseuds/Siriusstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looking in on Stiles's and Derek's late night activities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	after midnight snacks and satisfactions

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a prompt fic for "things you said at 1 a.m." but I changed it to 3 a.m., because I'm an insomniac and 1 a.m. feels early to me. I just rambled on from there.
> 
> There are spoilery notes at the end.

Even his sleeping self could sense Stiles’s absence from their bed.

Derek had already smelled the buttery, toasty aroma, too, so he knew where he’d find him—not that he couldn’t have located him anyway.

Getting to the kitchen Derek’s heart did the tiniest flip-flop at what he saw: Stiles in nothing but a rumpled t-shirt, the hem of it hitched up over one bare butt cheek and drooping partway over the other cheek.

Shuffling his feet to make sure Stiles heard him, Derek came up close behind, making dick-to-butt contact. Seeing the griddle handle in Stiles’s left hand, a spatula in the other, he just let his own hands settle on Stiles’s shoulders, pressed a soft kiss to his neck.

He thought about saying, “Your ass looks great in just that shirt.” Instead, “Can’t sleep?” he asked.

“Slept a little,” Stiles answered. “But kept dreaming I was in a restaurant, trying to read a menu. Woke up hungry.”

“Surprised you’re not makin’ pancakes.”

“Wanted grilled cheese.”

“Or a cheese omelet,” Derek yawned.

“I wanted _grilled cheese_.”

“Just seems so… _dense_ for…” eyeing the clock on the stove, “3:17 a.m.”

“ _You’re_ dense. I still want _you_.”

Derek dropped both hands to tickle Stiles under each ass cheek in retaliation. Stiles jerked.

“Hey!”

He flipped the sandwich, revealing the other perfectly golden brown side.

“Want half?” he offered.

“OK.—Want some tea with it?” Derek counter-offered. “There’s that Sleepy Time tea. Help you sleep.”

“No, thank you, _grampa_.—I want chocolate milk.”

Derek hummed. “There’s a part of you always going to be six years old, isn’t there.”

He got elbowed for that, followed by: “Yeah, but lucky for you other parts of me grew up past puberty.”

Derek snorted instead of laughing, stepped back while Stiles sliced the sandwich in half.

“Why’d I agree to this arrangement again?” Derek wondered aloud.

Pouring a glass of chocolate milk Stiles replied, “As I recall some of the terms of agreement were, ‘Oh god, Stiles, yes! Fuck, yes! Oh _god_!’”

Stiles tamed his grin to just a smirk, then took a seat across from Derek. They chewed their melty cheese goodness, looking one another in the eyes.

“Can’t help but notice,” Derek began, after a swallow, “You’re wearing just a shirt.”

“More than _you’re_ wearin’, baby,” Stiles “noticed” in return then he shrugged in assent. “It was dark. Thought I’d grabbed my underwear.”

“Hmm. Did you put your leg through the neck hole before you realized? Again?”

“That was _one_ time!”

Derek started to laugh. He couldn’t take another bite, shaking the way he was, remembering that one time.

Stiles squared his shoulders, sat up and assumed a dignified pose. He ate the last of his half-sandwich. After he’d swallowed he just sat there, pouting, his amber eyes trained first on Derek’s half of the sandwich, then on Derek.

There was no refusing that look. Derek held out his grilled cheese half, which was missing only two bites.

Stiles plucked the offering from Derek’s fingers. “Thank you, _lover_ ,” he purred, before tearing into the sandwich, smiling as he chewed.

Derek let himself be mesmerized by Stiles’s mouth. It’s what had drawn his eye the first time they’d met, semesters before at some campus party where Stiles’s suckling a narrow straw had proved impossible to ignore.

“Your generosity and devotion will be richly rewarded,” Stiles was saying next, pulling Derek from his sleepy reverie.

“You mean… now?” Derek asked.

“Of course I mean now,” Stiles answered, draining his chocolate milk, wiping his mouth with his hand and returning the glass to the sink.

“C’mon—up, up, up,” he continued, waving his hands. “Big boys need their beauty sleep.”

Derek let himself be pulled up from his chair but led them in the dark back to their bedroom.

Though moving through the dark was never a challenge for Derek, he stopped abruptly, so Stiles bumped against him. Then he turned around and immediately felt Stiles’s mouth on his.

But, “Uhm, chocolate milk and cheese,” Derek mumbled, to explain why he wasn’t exactly returning the kiss.

“ _Fine_ ,” Stiles huffed. He figured if he took the time to brush his teeth Derek would probably be asleep when he returned, and now that the snack had taken care of one hunger another hunger had replaced it. He spun Derek back around and shoved him in the bed’s direction.

“I’ll keep my mouth to myself then,” Stiles assured.

“No need for radical decisions,” Derek was amending when with another push from behind he let himself fall face first across the bed. He crawled into the middle of it and lay down, remaining on his stomach. He heard the shirt come off Stiles, felt him climb aboard. Stiles’s knees straddled Derek either side of his butt.

Those long, strong fingers started slowly stroking up and down his back. It felt so relaxing Derek could’ve sunk back to sleep—if he weren’t pretty sure the massage was foreplay. His dick felt absolutely certain it was.

“This my reward?” he asked, his mouth half-buried in a pillow.

“Mmmm— _maaay_ -be,” Stiles teased, pressing his fingers firmly into the groove of Derek’s backbone and stroking down its length. He increased the pressure as he reached the base, hearing a soft grunt and feeling Derek’s ass attempt to buck upwards under his.

Leaning forward, as his hands kneaded where Derek’s neck and shoulders joined, Stiles whispered, “You _want?_ ”

It was dark but Stiles could see Derek nodding his head, in profile, against the pillow.

Stiles leaned down more, trailing dry kisses along Derek’s jaw line to his ear.

“ _Me too_.”

Reaching out to find the knob on the bed table drawer, Stiles felt for the bottle of lube within it.

Derek always sprang for the expensive stuff, but Derek appreciated quality—and who was Stiles to argue with that?

Returning upright Stiles resumed the long slow drag of fingers down Derek’s back but this time when he reached butt he shifted further down. After many months together the two of them could move in harmony, without having to speak, and the darkness seemed to quell the need for speech anyway. Derek was moving too, making space for Stiles on his knees between Derek’s legs. Derek now laid face down, his arms braced on his hands so he could lever his ass into position. He spread his legs wider.

Stiles ran his hand soothingly over Derek’s fuzzy ass, applying gentle squeezes, smiling when he heard Derek’s soft hums in response.

All Stiles had seen when they’d first met was this most handsome man who wore facial hair better than anyone he’d ever known—not just the beard, but even the eyebrows. They were potentially menacing but, Stiles had learned, in the way those of a Husky puppy’s were menacing.

Meeting Derek’s friends—especially the loyal and very talkative Erica—Stiles heard of Derek’s former star athlete status on the basketball court and baseball diamond. Even now, with his focus on things academic, Derek maintained his athletic build and Stiles remained adoring of it.

Stiles knew very well that every stereotype was stupid and wrong, still, weeks into their dating, discovering how much his big, built boyfriend loved to cuddle and spoon, and how he’d curl, eager and content, into the little spoon in Stiles’s arms, had convinced him Derek was a keeper for the long term.

Finding out Derek liked getting fucked too—well, if that wasn’t husband material then nothing was…

A little pricey lube went a long way and Stiles was no longer wasteful of it. He slicked up three fingers but with just the index gently tickled Derek’s hole, then circled around it, with some pressure, then, with the care of a sculptor with soft clay, eased the fingertip inside.

Derek had turned his head again, Stiles could tell, from the way his moans sounded semi-muffled against the pillow, a quiet music to Stiles’s ears.

In the middle of the night their love-making tended to be a tender affair (unless it was the middle of the night and they’d just come in from dancing or a party somewhere. Drunk and horny, then their sexing up each other fell anywhere between wedding night and demolition derby.)

Stiles bent his body so that he could kiss Derek’s back, his butt, working three fingers through Derek’s rim, twisting them around and probing deeper and deeper. Derek responded to every move, pitching up his ass, arching his spine. That reaction always made Stiles feel a little crazed.

His dick pulsed with every heartbeat. He was near the limit of his tender restraint.

“Derek,” he gasped. “ _OK?_ ”

“ _Uh huh_.”

That was all Stiles needed to hear. _Oh my god_ , he thought, or maybe he said it. Gripping his hard dick he pressed the tip in, but he pumped in and out, always a little deeper with each pump.

The sense of hearing being primary in the dark, Derek’s moans, groans and grunts only amped up Stiles’s emotions. When one of Derek’s counter-thrusts met Stiles’s pumping, Stiles bottomed out, feeling deeply anchored inside Derek. He spread out over Derek’s back, surrendered to gravity and let it press them together and into the mattress. He knew it might be only the passion of the moment effecting him, so he said it only to himself, _I love this man_.

To the extent he could, Derek rubbed their heads together. “Feels so good,” he sighed.

No longer concerned about chocolate-milk-and-grilled-cheese breath, Stiles turned his head, wanting to kiss some part of Derek’s face. He felt the ridge of Derek’s ear against his mouth, so he kissed that, licked it too.

“ _So, so good_ ,” Stiles echoed. He’d almost whimpered.

Derek heard it, the almost-whimper. It made Derek smile, made him pitch up his ass once more and squeeze around the hard length inside him, which he knew Stiles loved to feel, and which in turn made himself feel perfectly full and completely connected.

The most exalted talk Derek had ever heard about sex described it, at its best, as the union of souls. He could believe that, with Stiles at least. But he wasn’t going to wax rapturous and spiritual about Stiles’s dick up his ass, as divinely as Stiles was fucking him with it at that moment. There’d be no waxing rapturous and spiritual, not that night at least.

Instead, after nearly whimpering himself, Derek only commended his awesome boyfriend with a breathy groan: “ _Unhh_ … Stiles… so glad you woke up hungry.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ending this ficlet where I do isn't meant to tease or frustrate, I swear. I intended to end in mid-fuck, with their pleasures in progress. I also hope I hinted effectively enough that they're both foreseeing a future with one another--because I'm Sterek af and Sterek forever.


End file.
